The Broken Vows
by Minirose96
Summary: "What is she, Sherlock?" "A lying, traitorous, disgusting woman who married me with the intention of murdering me with her equally reprehensible brother." The woman took in a sharp breath. John glared at the stubborn man before him. "No, you arse. What is she?" *Rating might change*
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

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**Prologue**

"Take a seat."

Sherlock glared. "I don't see why this is necessary. She needs to leave, not make herself comfortable."

The woman in question looked down and away. "Can I please just go?"

"No." "Yes."

John and Sherlock exchanged equally annoyed looks.

"She's staying, Sherlock. She's staying because you made me go through this and now it's your turn." The doctor said resolutely.

"I don't need to hear what she has to say. I already know everything I need to make a sound decision."

"No, you don't. What is she?"

"The woman who needs to get out of my flat."

"Can I -"

"No, you can't." John said, turning to her and giving her a patient smile, one she didn't feel she deserved, before he turned back to the glaring consulting detective. "What is she, Sherlock?"

"A lying, traitorous, disgusting woman who married me with the intention of murdering me with her equally reprehensible brother."

The woman took in a sharp breath. John glared at the stubborn man before him.

"No, you arse. _W__hat is she?" _

Sherlock ground his teeth together. "Fine. Take a seat, woman. Start from the beginning, and do hurry so you can leave faster."

She slowly moved past both men, head still down, and took the seat. It was an uncomfortable chair, but she didn't complain. She wanted nothing more than to run. She didn't want to be under their gazes. She didn't want to see John's kind face twisted with mistrust. She didn't want to see Sherlock's hate and scorn. She loved him so much.

She cleared her throat. "Why do I have to sit here? Can I please... not?"

"No. You sit there, because that's where the people who need help sit. That's where Sherlock makes the clients sit while we hear their stories and he decides whether we take you or not. You're a client right now. You tell us your story, and he decides."

"I've already decided."

"Shut up Sherlock. And sit down. Your pacing is starting to piss me off."

Sherlock glared, but took his seat. He knew the irony of this scene. This was something he'd forced on John a scant few years ago now. Forced him to go through it with Mary. He never in his musings thought he would be forced into this position. Not with his wife. Not for this reason. After all, it's not every day you discover the woman you married had been planning for nearly a decade to murder you after forcing you to become human and admit to human failings. He should have known better, should have seen through her disguise. He glowered at her, the look full of contempt.

She looked down at her hands, folded meekly in her lap. "Where should I start?"

"The beginning, obviously." Sherlock said, sneering. "The day we first met. This plan was been in place at least that long, obviously."

She nodded slowly. "All right."

Molly straightened her back, and began to tell her tale.

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This is going to be fun, I hope :3 This has been hopping around my mind for a bit. Sorry this beginning is so short, but It's just the prologue, I promise, other chapters will be longer XD


	2. A Plan Unfolding

**********Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**  


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**Chapter One**

**A Plan Unfolding**

"Jim, why do I have to do this?" Margret Anne Moriarty whined to her brother, James Richard Moriarty as she prepared for her first day at her new job, working as a pathologist in the morgue at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. It wasn't the job that upset her, but the reason she was taking it. She loved working with the dead - it had always been a morbid fascination, ever since she helped Jimmy with his first murder. Even big brothers needed help sometimes.

No, it definitely wasn't the job itself that had the twenty - nine year old whining softly like a child. It was the role she and Jim had decided on, the role that had been over a decade in the making, ever since they saw that teenage boy trying to solve Jimmy's first murder. They had both known he would be a threat to Jim's later plans. Molly would always protect her big brother, just like he protected her. Carl Powers wasn't as nice a lad as everyone thought. She once had bruises to prove it too, but Jimmy had taken care of him for her.

She had somewhat hoped that Sherlock would die of an overdose, once she and Jim learned he was in rehab a few years back. But alas, he had lived, and that meant their plan was still in action.

She turned to her brother, who was giving her an appreciative eye. Well, more like judging her choice in clothing.

"Really Margret, isn't the cherry print a bit much?" He asked, tutting.

She glared. "Isn't playing the love sick fool for the most asinine person on the face of the earth a bit much, James?" She shot back, hands on her hips.

Her glare only made her brother laugh. He came over and gently patted the top of her head, just like he used to when they were little. "That's exactly why we have to play this little game. He doesn't like feeling anything. He's such a bad man. Wouldn't it be fun to see him slowly crumble before finally admitting he can feel? And then, of course, when he's finally broken down, we'll break his heart. Well, you will, my dear." He kissed her cheek softly.

She smiled. Right. That was the plan. She'd been watching him with her brother as Jimmy built up his crime organization. And Sherlock had begun slowly picking at it from the start, even if he didn't realize it yet. He was a thorn in their side, right from the start. And he had the gall to claim to be a sociopath. Margret rolled her eyes at the thought. He really was an imbecile.

She nodded. "All right. Promise you'll pick me up from work at least?" She asked, purposely pulling the sweetest expression she could. Even though they were adults, she knew the perfect way to wrap her big brother around her little finger. Which was why she was surprised when he shook his head no.

"I'm sorry Margret, but you've got to remember your background now. We can't risk being seen together yet," he reminded her sternly, even as sh e began to pout. "Don't worry, one day everyone will know of the last two Moriarty's, and how they brought London to it's knees."

That thought cheered her up. "All right." She was grinning again.

James cocked his brow. "Just to be sure, why don't you tell me who you are now?"

She sighed. "All right. I'm Molly Anne Hooper. I live alone except for my cat, Toby. My dad is dead from cancer and my mum and I are estranged. I don't have any siblings. I'm new to Bart's, and to London, but I come with good recommendations." Bits and pieces of the story were true. Her father had died of cancer several years ago. her mum though - she'd never really been in the picture at all. The only part of that that was the unedited truth was that she came with good recommendations. Her professors in Uni were astounded by her aptitude for pathology. If they only knew.

She looked down at the Identification card currently pinned to her jumper. Molly Anne Hooper. She had legally changed her name to that three years ago, but until now it hadn't meant much. She was still Little Margret to Jimmy. Now would be a real test, with her new name and identity. She was looking forward to tricking the supposedly great Sherlock Holmes.

"Jim grinned. "Perfect Margret. Now, off you pop. Can't be late on your first day."

She sighed. "All right Jimmy. Just make sure my flat's ready for me." She kissed his cheek and left.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"I thought I said start at the beginning, not at you and your brother's demented discussion beforehand."

Molly looked down, twisting her hands together. "I'm sorr-"

"Molly, just continue. Sherlock, shut up." John said, cutting off her apology.

The consulting detective glared momentarily at his friend. "This is a waste of time. She just said herself, she's been planning to kill me since Carl Powers."

"I haven't wanted to kill you in several years, Sherlock." She muttered, closing her eyes. As if that helped anything.

The silence was stark between them.

John cleared his throat. "Carry on, Molly."

"Margret."

"Shut up, Sherlock." John hissed.

Molly sighed. Once, she had been proud of her birth name. Now, it only brought disgust. Still, she swallowed, and continued.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Margret - _Whoops, I need to remember now, it's Molly - _had been working for four hours alone in the morgue before the doors slammed open. Despite herself, she jumped, and for just a second her hand went to her hip, where, up until today, a small firearm would have been expertly hidden for those sticky situations a girl could get into. Now, it looked as though she were gripping her stomach against a fright, which worked well, considering who entered.

She widened her eyes as Sherlock entered, followed closely by her new boss. It was the moment of truth. Would her disguise last?

Sherlock gave her barely a passing glance. It was her boss who introduced them. She forced her eyes to go wide, her voice to fluctuate in that way that girl's voices tend to when they're overwhelmed. In truth, she was a bit overwhelmed.

She'd seen him in pictures and far away, but nothing could have prepared her for the depth and intelligence in his eyes. And damn if he didn't have the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen on a man. Pictures really did not do him justice.

She held out her hand. "H-hello," she put the stammer in her voice, "I'm Molly. I just started today. I.. I hear you do cases. Is that what you're doing now?" She asked. As if she didn't know he was working on one of her brother's jobs now. She could have rolled her eyes. As pretty as he was, he was still an ass. He didn't even shake her hand, like a polite man would. He just kind of looked at it and dismissed it as unimportant before turning away.

Her boss wasn't much help. He just shrugged hopelessly, wished her luck, and left. Useless man. She'd ask Jimmy. She frowned. No, she couldn't ask him to clean up this mess. She had to deal with this part of the plan herself. She couldn't just start asking her brother to get rid of annoying co-workers. Even if it would make Bart's a better facility overall.

So, she stuttered and stumbled her way through a greeting, and when Sherlock dismissed her, she went back to the body she'd been working on, making sure to throw in the perfect amount of dejection. A few glances at him out of the corner of her eye, all of which she was sure he caught and took as puppy love yearning, and it was gold. She could practically see his mental cogs turning, and deeming her malleable to his whims in the future. It really was too easy.

She completed the autopsy and pealed off her gloved as she looked at the clock. Five minutes until her shift ended.

She glanced once more at Sherlock. He was busy messing around with some slides, which _she_ would no doubt be left to clean up. Obnoxious man. She walked over, and glanced over his shoulder.

"Oh, um, excuse me," she said, more stuttering and stumbling over the simplest of words.

Sherlock sighed dramatically, and lifted his head. "Yes?"

"It's just, my shift's ending, so I have to, umm..." She swallowed, fiddled with her fingers, bit her lip gently, all signs of nervousness and attraction. Playing the game. "I have to lock up, you see, so you... you really should be going... please."

And then he pulled the most interesting look, as if he was playing his own game. He probably was. It was equal parts sadness, curiosity, interest, and sweetness. "You have a nice smile." And he flashed one of his own.

She felt a very real rush of blood to her cheeks. _What bloody game is this man playing?_

And then, with his next statement, it hit her.

"I'll only be a bit longer. Couldn't you wait to leave?"

Her mask almost slipped then and there. The sneaky bastard was flirting to get what he wanted!

Instead, she looked down and away, pursed her lips as if in thought, glanced back towards his smile, and nodded. "I suppose so." she said softly.

They ended up staying another three hours, even though she was bored and ignored, he got to finish his experiments. He left in a flurry of movement, saying how he had to contact Lestrade. He's solved her brother's case.

On her way home - well, to Molly Hooper's home. Her home was with Jimmy - she cursed Sherlock name.

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Woah, One chappie down! I am so shocked at the huge amount of people who have shown an interest in this story. I mean, the prologue was soo short, I was worried, but ohmygod you all are amazing. I think this is the most amount of reviewers for a first chapter on any of my stories so far, and it's also my shorted chapter ever! Just AHH I want to hug you all!

The list of beautiful people who reviewed: **MorbidbyDefault, whenisayrun, PurpleYin, belle0029, teyze, Rocking the Redhead, Tenshi, Shayran16, FanFicGirl10, Anon, lavanyalabelle, Irivel, BelleIllumina, Jessiekat89, Lanceletta, Guest, Renaissancebooklover108,** and **Brytte Mystere. **I mean, wow. 18 of you guys. That seems like a huge number. And of course, that's only those who reviewed. Everyone who's read it as well, it astonishes me. Thank you all so much 3

And thank you to Cumberburch. You put up with so much as a beta. All the horrid mistakes that thankfully no one else has to see XD You're the best 3

Until Next Time! :*


	3. A Study in Trickery

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

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**Chapter Two**

**A Study in ****Trickery**

"Skip ahead."

Both John and Molly gave Sherlock odd looks.

Sherlock didn't bother returning either of them. "I remember those years well enough without you recalling every thought you had of killing me. Skip ahead." He repeated. He refused to look at her.

"No, Sherlock. You've got to hear it all." John said, frowning.

Molly shook her head. "No, he really doesn't, John. Please... I've done a lot of horrid things. I've killed in cold blood, I've covered up murders and hired assassins and set up heists. I... was a very different person in the past. And I'd rather skip ahead, like he asked... it's really more of the same." She smiled without any humor. The expression was cold and ironic.

"I wanted Sherlock dead. I hoped, each time Jim came up with a scheme, that it would be the one to end Sherlock. I will never deny that. But I don't want to dredge up every individual case and thought that made me think that way. So please... can I just skip ahead?" By the end of her words, Molly's voice had go soft, quiet and meek and almost begging.

John looked at her strangely. Well, no, it wasn't strange. He was just seeing her more clearly now. He was getting a clear view on the real Molly Hooper. And she could tell, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the view.

Sherlock gave no response to any of her words. In the end, John nodded. "All right." He swallowed. "Where to now then?"

"To you, I think... After all, you're what changed things." She replied.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Jim, this is pointless! We've been at this for years, and I'm still little more than his bloody servant. If I have to make one more bloody cup of coffee, I'll -"

"Relax Margret. Everything's falling into place. You'll see." Jim assured, smoothing his sister's hair to the side in a familiar comforting gesture. Margret sighed softly.

This had become a regular conversation, during the siblings' monthly meeting. Each meeting was in a new place, to stop patterns from forming. This one was in a small restaurant, in a private booth. They kept their voices low.

"Please Jimmy, I'm tired. I hate this - I miss my name. No one even knows my name, except you, because you got rid of the documents stating it. Now, I'm just boring old Molly Anne Hooper, and I have been for years, and I'm just... tired." She knew she was repeating herself, whining more than usual, but everything was so... so bloody difficult. The plan wasn't working.

Jim shushed her. "You'll always be Margret. You'll always be a Moriarty. No matter what a few slips of paper say."

Margret smiled softly. At least he knew her name. And he was right anyway - Nothing would stop her from being a Moriarty. It was in her blood.

"Can we please just kill him? I heard he wants to get involved in Hope's case. Lestrade will cave eventually. Please Jimmy, can we let Hope try to finish things for us?" Margret asked.

Jim gave her an appraising look. She pulled the puppy dog eyes, sweet and kind and innocent. Of course, he knew the truth,but that didn't stop him from nodding.

"All right Margret. I'll let Hope have his fun."

She smiled. "Thank you Jimmy.

As one, they stood. They embraced, and he kissed the top of her head. It was time to part again, for the time being.

"Next month, eighteen, Sunset Reviera, seven. All right?"

Margret nodded. It seemed like a jumbled praise, but it was their way of setting up the next meeting. Parts of it were obvious. Next month, self explanatory. Eighteen - the day of the month. Sunset Reviera - the location. Seven - the time.

"I'll see you then."

They left together. He actually walked her to her car. Jimmy really was quite the gentleman, for the right woman. Margret smiled. Or the right sister.

He opened the door for her, and she slid inside. He stepped aside as she pulled out. Always so protective of her, he watched her until the car was out of sight.

The drive home was a short one, and soon she was shutting the door to her flat. Her cat, which she had grown exceptionally fond of, came to greet her. She bent down to scratch his head affectionately before setting her purse aside. She refilled his food bowl and was promptly ignored while he ate.

Oh, how she loved the affectionate little furball. Still, there was a sense of sadness.

She knew, here, in this flat, she was Molly Hooper again. The lovesick woman with no spine to speak of, and a dreadful taste in furnishings. Everything in this flat was fake. The decor, light, frivolous colors and patterns, were too childish for her more intricate tastes, but it was all about keeping up the facade. She could never turn Molly Hooper off.

Some days, if only for a moment, she forgot which part was real, and which was the illusion.

Oh, how she missed her name.

She kept a journal now, with all the information of her real life in it, so that if she ever lost sight of it, she could read that and regain herself.

Now felt like one of those days, where she needed to pour over the pages, and remember Margret Anne Moriarty.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Do you still have it?" Sherlock interrupted her rather suddenly.

She frowned for a moment. The mere fact that he was speaking directly to her surprised her. "It?"

"Don't be daft, woman. The journal you just spoke of."

"Sherlock!" John scolded. He ignored him.

Molly looked down at her lap. "Yeah... I still have it." Even if he was speaking to her, he couldn't even call her her name. Molly. Molly Anne Holmes.

"Go get it."

John watched her walk to the book case by the wall. She pulled out the only copy of the bible - she had brought it with her when she moved in, and had shelved it there, hidden in plain sight. It wasn't hard to take out the pages and make it a blank slate for her. She wasn't a religious woman. Defacing the bible was nothing compared to her other sins.

She walked back to Sherlock and held it out to him.

She swallowed. "Please don't read it Sherlock. Please."

John and Sherlock exchanged a look. They both recognized the parallels.

"Why not?" He asked quietly. He still refused to looked at her, standing in front of him so forlornly.

"Because... you'll hate me even more than you already do."

There was a heavy silence.

"Sit down. Skip ahead - enough of your family meetings and such. Why is John important?"

"Because he opened your heart." Molly replied, taking her seat once more. She noticed that Sherlock hadn't said he wouldn't read it. She wished she had burned the damn thing long ago. That would have been the smart thing to do.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"What happened to the lipstick?"

Margret could have groaned. Of course _he _would be the one to question her choice of make up and then ask where it went.

Instead of groaning, however, and calling him a stuck up prat like he was, she went for what Molly would do.

She swallowed, allowing the blood to rush noticeably to her cheeks as she replied. "It wasn't working for me."

He couldn't even be bothered to look at her as he responded, the coffee she'd made him in his hands. "really? I thought it was a big improvement - mouth's too small now."

Molly felt the tiniest tick in her eye. She never used to have a tick. Until him.

Bastard.

"Oh-kay." She let out the soft reply, and turned to leave.

It was the first time she noticed the other man in the room - a huge slip up on her part. She'd never seen him before. War veteran, limp - not real -, ah, so he'd found a flatmate. She recalled him talking with Mike about needing one.

She left the room quickly. Jim might find this interesting, even if it was too soon for their meeting again, since their last one had just been a couple nights ago.

She went to the loo and locked herself in before fishing out her cellphone - a special one, actually. Untraceable. There was only one phone number in it.

The dial tone rang only once before Jimmy picked up. Of course, names weren't allowed.

"He's gotten a flatmate." She said simply.

"And?"

She frowned slightly. "Well, that's not like him."

"Who's the flatmate?"

Molly proceeded to tell him everything she could about the man. Sadly, though she was observant, she was not on Sherlock or her brother's level of deductive abilities. In the end, she knew her description fell a bit flat.

Still, Jimmy hummed. "All right, he might be an interesting tool later. Very good. Goodbye, little one."

She smiled. "Goodbye, big one."

The call ended, and she was stuck with nothing to do. With all postmortems done, and Sherlock done with experiments for the day, she could relax.

And then her timer beeped. She dug in her purse for her other cellphone, the public one, and groaned. She had to get back to the lab and text Sherlock the results of the bruising in less than two minutes.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Were the results you did text me accurate?" Again, a sudden interruption.

Molly sighed softly. "Yes, they were. I would never alter evidence. You might have caught on had I done so. I'm not stupid, Sherlock. You know that by now, if nothing else."

The tension was palpable.

"Skip. Ahead."

Molly arched her brow. "Did you ever figure it out?" She asked softly.

Finally, Sherlock glanced at her, from the corner of his eye. "Figure what out?"

"Which was the good pill?"

Sherlock frowned. "You were listening. The entire time."

She smiled softly, but there was no pleasure in the expressed. "Jim and I had front row seats, via a tiny camera in the corner. You didn't notice."

"You know which one it was."

She nodded. "Hope really was a brilliant man. His children are well off now. Each millionaires overnight."

"Did I get it right?"

John just glanced between the two, at a loss for words.

Molly shook her head. "No, Sherlock, you didn't. If you had taken the pill, you would be dead. You should thank John - he really did save your life that day."

"The one closest to me was the good pill then?" he clarified.

She shook her head again. "No. Neither was a good pill. That was the trick, Sherlock. The only way to win the game was what you did originally - ask for the gun."

He was frowning. "Explain."

"Both pills were laced with the poison. But, given time, you could build an immunity to the poison. Jim and I found Hope rather quickly after he was diagnosed. We offered him a choice. He accepted. The game was all his idea. Jim was really impressed with him. So was I, at the time."

"We."

She frowned.

"You said we. 'We offered him a choice.' You arranged the deal with Hope, money for murders."

She nodded. "I had a part in it, yes."

"Moriarty. He wasn't referring to your brother when he gave me that name."

"You catch on quickly." She said, looking down again. "Yes, Sherlock. I arranged that particular deal. He knew me by my birth name. Jim and I were so pissed, when he shouted it to you before dying. He's a lucky man - had he not died then, Jim would have made him suffer greatly for his little slip."

She didn't sound the least bit regretful in that fact, something that left John, at least, with a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You may not believe me, Sherlock, but Jim was an excellent brother. He loved me, and took care of me after our father died when I was sixteen. He claimed custody of me, and watched over me. He was already in the major workings of his criminal career at the time. He didn't need to saddle himself with a teenager, but he did. He raised me even before that. Our mother left us, and Father was often away for business. It usually was just the two of us anyway."

"So, it's his fault that you're a manipulative, murderess then?"

Molly sighed. "No, Sherlock, that's just me. He may have raised me, but I always knew our view on the world was skewed. I did was I did to stay with my family. Family is the most important thing there is."

Another heavy silence.

"The case John named The Blind Baker. What was your part in that?"

* * *

I dunno, I just love this version of Molly, darker and more manipulative.

Thanks so much to all the lovely reviewers, **Launch, lavanyalabelle, Rose of Zakarisz, Crabbybubbles101, Nana40, FanFicGirl10, CreamoCrop, Rocking the Redhead, belle, Anon, HallowQueen, Shayran16, Jessiekat89, Khione'sKid.306, whenisayrun, Renaissancebooklover108, Brytte Mystere, Guest(1), Guest(2),** and** NiceNipps. **Reading reviews is simply amazing - it's certainly addictive, and I couldn't do this without the support you guys give me!

And to CumberBurch, for putting up with so many errors it would make your head spin XD

Until Next Time! :*


	4. The Blind Detective

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**The Blind Detective**

Molly smiled without humor. "Who do you think was willing to pay nine million pounds for a tiny hairpin?"

For the first time since sitting - or sprawling, to be more accurate - down, Sherlock sat up, back stiff. His eyes were narrowed as he stared at her. She almost wished he'd look away.

She did, looking down at her lap, doing her best to sit still.

"Not me, exactly. Jim wanted to give it to me. He thought it would suit me, and I... thought it would be funny."

"How could owning a smuggled trinket be 'funny?'" Sherlock asked stonily.

"I thought it would be funny to own something you were looking for. To wear it every day as you struggled to find the last clue. We knew you'd get involved eventually." She snapped, raising her gaze - more of a glare now - to meet his. "I wanted it because everyday you came in, you used me, and as soon as you got what you wanted you ignored me, and I thought it would be _funny _to wear it right under your nose, because I am a horrible, spiteful person!"

Just as suddenly as it had started, she stopped, deflating visibly. Her glare disappeared, replaced with a sad gleam. "Is that what you want to hear, Sherlock? Some proof that I'm a heartless, horrid woman? Some key phrase that will make it okay to hate me?" she asked quietly.

The brokenhearted tension in the room was back with a vengeance. Sherlock didn't respond to her questions. His eyes, however, widened slightly as he took in the fact that what she had said previously was entirely a farce. A believable one as well.

John had watched the exchange in silence, but he cleared his throat now.

The tension diffused slightly as both Sherlock and Molly looked towards him.

"Molly, why don't you... explain things more fully?"

She nodded slowly. "Sure John, I can do that."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Margret, I have a surprise for you!" Jimmy said, looking all too pleased with himself.

It took her a second to realize that he was talking to her. When she only heard her name once a month, it was so hard to remember sometimes. Molly was just so ingrained into her mind now.

She smiled softly at her brother. "Oh? What did you get me?" She asked, trying to display some enthusiasm. It was another month, another meeting at another stupid restaurant that she'd never step foot in again.

Jimmy didn't seem to mind or notice her lack of a genuine smile. No doubt he was setting it to one of her moods, which had become more common recently, though they had cropped up occasionally before everything else began. "Well," he said, dragging out the 'e', "I don't have it yet, but it's coming in with the Black Lotus' next delivery."

She arched her brow, recognizing the name as one of her brother's more successful jobs, one that, according to him, would hit public - and Sherlock's - notice before long. "So," she began, leaning slightly over the table, curious now, "What is it?"

He grinned widely, definitely more than a little pleased with himself. "A jade hairpin fit for an empress, my dear Margret."

She blinked. With anyone else, she knew that it would have just been a turn of phrase. With Jim... she wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't nick an empress's hairpin for her. And if it came from the Black Lotus, it was a real artifact, and it was expensive.

"Jimmy, you shouldn't have! I couldn't possibly wear it, not if the authorities are looking for it."

Jim waved her words away. "Really, I wouldn't put you in that kind of danger. No one will be looking for it, I promise. Besides, it suits you perfectly, and it's only a trifle."

Again, she arched her brow. a trifle. "Jimmy..."

He stood, cutting off her words again as he rounded the table. "I've got to go, Margret. People to see, places to burn, the usual." He kissed the top of her head and left before she could really object further. The whole thing left a bit of a sour taste in her mouth, especially when she realized that before, she never would have let him cut her off like that, and leave her alone.

He didn't even stay to escort her this time. It left a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she stood and left alone.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"What do you mean it's been stolen?" Molly asked into the phone. Jim had called her suddenly. It was quite unusual for him to call her outside of their normal arrangement.

"The pin's missing. One of the carriers has sticky fingers, and that damn woman in charge didn't keep good enough track of inventory." Jim was more than just a little angry. You can't just steal from a Moriarty and expect to get away with it. At least, that's what he taught her when she was little. Now, it seemed a bit silly. And worrying.

Molly sighed. "Maybe there was some type of mistake." She suggested.

Jim just snorted his opinion of her poorly brought forth idea. "Yes, it was a mistake, by an imbecilic greedy-fingered cretin. Someone's going to die for this one."

He seemed to be speaking to himself, but it still caused her to frown. "That's a bit -" extreme. Not that Jim heard her, over his own talking.

"I'll have a word with the underlings. Sit tight Margret, it's nothing for you to worry about anyway. I'll have the pin for you." He said it with such glee. Molly didn't have a chance to try to dissuade him before he hung up.

"But... I don't really want a hairpin..." she sighed. He didn't hear her words anyway. The dial tone was already beeping in her ear. It happened more and more often that he ignored her.

She hung up the phone.

No doubt, if the Black Lotus alone didn't get Sherlock's attention, then the inevitable bodies would.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"It was about a week later, when the first man was brought into the morgue." Molly said in a soft voice. "I don't even remember his name anymore, but I recognized the symbol on his ankle from something Jimmy showed me one day. It made me realize -"

"You showed me their feet."

Molly frowned slightly at Sherlock's interruption. "What?"

"You showed me their feet, knowing that would allow me to solve the case. You could have said no. Why didn't you?" It was another of those demanding questions, once he wouldn't let her move on from until she answered it. She sighed.

"That's easy Sherlock... I let you see the feet because..."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"What are you thinking - pork or the pasta?"

Molly nearly jumped out of her skin, until she saw him. Her heart gave an all too real flutter. "Oh, it's you!" Her voice sounded high even to her. She knew he'd pick it out. She felt her cheeks flush.

He wasn't really looking at her though, still focused on the food for some reason. "I suppose it's never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?" A rhetorical question, but she had to drop her gaze for a moment before looking up. He was still talking. "I'd stick with the pasta. Wouldn't be doing roast pork. Not if you're slicing up cadavers."

The last word just rolled off his tongue. She had no clue why that word sounded so much more enticing when he said it. _Probably something wrong with that thought. _

"What are you having?" She asked, trying to not make a fool of herself.

"Don't eat when I'm working. Digesting slows me down."

Molly frowned slightly. _Oh._ "So you're working here tonight?" Of course he wouldn't be here just to say hi. Sherlock Holmes didn't do something so human. Silly man.

"I need to examine some bodies." Of course he did. Typical. It hurt her heart a bit. Oh well.

"Some?"

"Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis."

Molly looked down at the clipboard in her hands, pursing her lips slightly. "They're on my list." She said softly. And they were part of Jimmy's Black lotus things. She should tell him no, then.

"Could you wheel them out again for me?" Molly was certain he'd purposely made his voice deeper. He knew what it did to her. So wrong. He was such a manipulative arse.

_Just say no, Molly. You can do it._

"Well... their paperwork's already gone through."

There was a slight pause. She heard the click of his tongue, and knew she was done for.

"You changed your hair."

"What?"

"The style—it's usually parted in the middle." Oh gosh. _He actually stuttered over it. No, just ignore it Molly. _

"Yes, well..."

"No it's good. It suits you better this way." He smiled as he said it.

_Dammit Molly._

She couldn't stop the smile as she turned around.

Jim would understand. It was all about being up pretenses after all... right?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"... because Margret Moriarty was dying inside me. All of the hate, and confusion, and stubbornness and pride I had as a Moriarty was dying. And as she started to fade, all that was left was Molly Hooper, and she was irrevocably in love with you, despite everything. Despite all of your cruel words, and all the times you used and insulted her, she still loved you, and would always help you if you asked." Molly swallowed, closing her eyes as she continued. She didn't want to see the doubt, disbelief, and disgust in Sherlock's eyes.

"I can't tell you when She died. Only that she's been dead a very long time. Margret Moriarty is dead. Molly Hooper's still alive. She's me. That's all that's left now. And that's why."

Molly held in the tears, though she felt like she wanted to cry. She might not have her pride as a Moriarty anymore, but she still had her pride as Molly Hooper, and she would not cry in front of him again. Not about this. Not when he was looking at her like this, like she was something to be loathed, some confused viper waiting to strike.

She missed Margret sometimes. Maybe then she could hate him again.

* * *

BOOM Chapter 3! WHOO! XD

To the reviewers: **Rose of Zakarisz, MorbidbyDefault, Rocking the Redhead, FanFicGirl10, Shayran16, AdaYuki, Monirosez, Jessiekat89, magentacr, CloudCuckooLandHasAQueen, Nana40, NiceNipps, TheRealLKC, dayflow, Anon, Renaissancebooklover108, Brytte Mystere, MissPond7, lavanyalabelle, Tabashi, FarGreenCountrySwiftSunrise, Thegreenconsultingdragonlord, iamidristhetardis, whenisayrun, RunYouCleverBoyAndRememberMe, Girl Of Chaos, I-DreamedTheDream, ash,** and **The Demigod Gryffindor **... Where did you all come from?! Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews, and all your kind words! It's been simply amazing so far, just.. thank you!

Also, guys, if you haven't seen it yet, Mollymatters on Tumblr made a gif set to go with this story. I died in a screech attack (And also, I got so many new comments after she made it) so here's a big shout out to her for the amazingness. I would link it, but sadly FF doesn't allow links, but you can find it easily on her account or mine - since I'm definitely reblogging it with this update.

Thanks to Cumberburch for being my seriously patient beta!

Until Next Time! :*


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